I walked into a room in my parents’ house at the tail end of a birthday party for family member on Sunday. My cousins were having a conversation in the doorway to the spare room. The dog was crunching up a carrot on the carpet of the playroom floor. The light and the time and the sounds, all suddenly screaming that I had been there before. In this moment. Chiding the dog and cleaning up the carrot bits. My cousins were having that same conversation. I know it. I was there. And not somewhere similar. There.
Huh... Déja vu.
Funny that we use a French word for that. I wonder how many other languages have words for that feeling. Is there a scientific word? A neurological description? How many belief structures claim it for their own mythologies?
I had the sudden overwhelming thought that I’d never be in that moment again. Well, duh. You’re never in any moment again. Unless you are.
Mark Twain once said, “History does not repeat itself but sometimes it rhymes.” Is this a rhyme? A stutter? Faulting wiring in my noodle?
I wonder what they changed.